The X-Project

Arriving in Indonesia, plans are laid for the temple raid.



There was an abandoned airfield that Montoya had directed Kurt to, and the Blackbird landed safely. This particular Indonesian island was mountainous and thick with rain-forest, remote enough for the mixed team to land without incident - the Indonesian government wasn't known for its spirit of cooperation. For a long moment there was silence, broken only by the slight metallic sounds of the Blackbird cooling down, and then Dr. Strange stirred and cleared his throat.

"Well," he said almost brightly. "Here we are, then."

As the ramp lowered, Cain walked out into the sunny clearing, shading his eyes with one massive hand. "So here we are," he repeated, then mumbled under his breath. "Stomping through some new godforsaken jungle chasing after another magic rock. Real sense of deja vu here..."

He turned to the woodline and continued his walk around the Blackbird, watching for any motion that seemed unnatural, the old reflexes coming back as the sounds and smells of the tropical jungle hit him. Raising his voice and waving his hand, he took a knee by the edge of the airstrip. "Looks clear! Let's get this show on the road!"

Kurt moved to his side, staring into the jungle. "I am guessing no one can tell me enough of the gem's chamber for a nice easy teleport?"

Kyle raised his hand. "Dude, wouldn't that mean one of us had been in there? And wouldn't that totally mean like, we'd already done this? That's confusing to think about. Forget I asked." He trotted down to the edge of the ramp, and stopped long enough to remove his sandals and throw them back into the plane. The ground under his toes was soft, and damp, and Kyle very carefully lifted one foot to inspect it. "Squishy." He declared.

Monet grinned nervously at Kyle and adjusted her trainee uniform, going over her instructions yet again. (Do what they tell you to. Don't fuck it up, either.) She bounced from foot to foot, watching the X-Men, uncomfortably aware of just how many things might go wrong.

Farouk unfurled his umbrella and looked around dolefully. He absolutely, positively hated the jungle. And to add insult to injury the X-Men saw fit to shanghai Esteban, so now was reduced to carrying his own backpack. He wasn't even able to find a pith helmet to go with his white suit. The gun holster was rubbing his skin raw. And he was trapped in the middle of South East Asia with the man who probably blamed him for getting his brain raped less than two months ago.

Amahl was really quite looking forward to reaching their objective and expressing his displeasure with the situation in suitably dramatic and messily final ways to the very first henchman he could lay his hands on.

"Mr. Cain." He cleared his throat meaningfully. "Tempus fugit, no?"

"Keep running your mouth and I'll show you where you can tempus your fugit, pal," Cain growled, looking over the assembled group and calling them over as he laid out the map that Strange had marked with the probable location of the temple. "All right. Wildchild, you take the geek squad down along the valley. It's the safest route in, mostly open ground. Anything goes wrong, don't be afraid to leave the old man behind." He said the last with a thumb jerked at Farouk, then turned to the others and pointed at Jan and Monet. "You two are with me. Direct route in. Gidget here can do recon and me an' Miss Perfect can take anything this jungle's got to dish out. The rest of you..." He rolled up the map and tossed it to Amanda. "See if you can't think sneaky-like. You're good at that."

She caught it, glancing at Strange, who nodded. Unlike the X-Men, the witch was wearing a loose cotton shirt and khaki shorts, and was barely sweating in the tropical warmth. "I don't have a lot to draw from power-wise here," she said, quietly. "But I should have enough to cut into whatever they're planning with this thing."

"Probably some kind of dimensional gateway," supplied Strange, pushing his glasses up his nose and waving absently at a bug. "The Eye of Malin Kundang is a nexus point. According to the legends, when his mother's curse turned him to stone, Malin Kundang was carrying a great jewel, a diamond, intended as a gift for his king. The curse touched the diamond, but didn't turn it to stone - instead it created a gateway between this world and that of the gods."

Jan yawned. "Can't we just go find it already?" Big whoop what some boring old legend said. Stories wouldn't help them find the stone.

Kurt nodded to her. "Very well, Gidget. You heard Juggernaut's plan - please switch size now and we will begin."

"Bueno!" Alejandro Montoya exclaimed as he buckled an honest-to-god sword onto his hip and stood with his hands on his hips, looking down into the valley. "Come, my friends, let us proceed. Ah, it makes me feel like a young man again! The adventure, the danger - oh, si, the danger. If I know Baron Zemo, and I do, his men will be... rather flamboyantly dressed but no less dangerous. But have no fear in your young hearts! Our cause is as righteous as our blood is red, we go into certain doom to save the world, no?"

Kyle looked over at his teammates, and then at Montoya, and then directly at Cain. "And you say *I* talk funny?"



Cain, Monet and Jan take the direct route...



With another grumble, Cain gripped a double handful of foliage, ripping and heaving to clear a path.

Of course, he would have the luck to tear away a tree behind which two colorfully-suited thugs with submachine guns were sitting and sharing a hand-rolled cigarette. Both blinking at the sudden disturbance, one of them leveled his weapon at Cain.

"Freeze?" he asked briefly before his finger jerked on the trigger. The first spray of bullets ricocheted harmlessly off Cain's chest, and the big man looked over his shoulder.

"Now's as good a time as any to ask if you're bulletproof," he shouted to Monet.

Monet squeaked in surprise. "I think so?" She could just see Cain, below her. Moving forward, above the tree cover, she got to a point where the thugs had their backs to her for a moment. She'd done a Danger Room drill like this, hadn't she? Curling herself into a little ball, Monet dropped through the trees, hitting one like a cannon ball as they turned to face her. Bullets didn't bounce off her nearly so easily as Cain and she'd wear a few large bruises later.

The sound of the rapid gunfire drew Jan's attention. Immediately, she reversed her flight path, heading back towards Monet and Cain and whatever trouble they seemed to find themselves in. Jan knew for sure she wasn't bulletproof, but of course no one would be shooting at her. Most people didn't shoot at bugs or things they couldn't see, and unless someone knew to look for a tiny flying girl, Jan figured she was as good as invisible. Well, she'd see how eager these guys were to shoot at people when their hands had been zapped with a nice, heavy-duty bioelectric sting or two. Humming to herself inside her head, Jan made a beeline towards the man shooting at Cain and landed on his hand just long enough to deliver the promised zap!

Taking advantage of the distraction caused by Jan, Cain slid forward, scything his arms back in a sweeping motion, knocking both thugs aside to collide roughly with apparently the only solid tree trunks in the entire jungle. Wiping his hands with a smug grin, he turned around to see another half-dozen emerge from the woodline, guns poised at their shoulders.

"Oh, the hell with this," he swore, glancing up at Monet,="Monet," then over to where he assumed Jan was. "Twelve o'clock, should be about a mile hit the air and go!"

Twelve o'clock was... uh.... there, right? "Gotcha. That way." Monet nodded, hoping Cain would be okay. The guards all had guns and whilst they couldn't wound her, they still hurt. Staying, though, wasn't an option. Shooting back up through the trees, she heard shots below and gave a small scream as another bullet caught her in the side. Going to bruise. Going to bruise lots. Getting above the trees, she set off as fast as she could go. Please let them not have a flier. That would be bad. "Jan! Jan, can you grab onto me? I reckon that's easiest."

"One grab-and-go ride coming right up!" Jan said, setting off in Monet's direction. The older girl was surprisingly slow, and Jan didn't have a problem catching up with her. "You realize I'm just making myself a target here, don't you?" she mock-complained. "People are shooting at you, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't get lost if you try to fly on your own then."

As soon as Cain saw the girls take to the air, he smiled and looked at the assorted mercenaries and thugs closing in. He lowered his head for a moment, let out a sigh, and then looked up with a smile. "You might want to get out of the way," he said before beginning his run towards the temple.

Of course, they didn't. And that was just fine with him.



While Amanda, Kurt and Montoya go for a more circumspect alternative..."



"See if you can't think sneaky-like. You're good at that."

There had been times, since London, when Amanda felt that reality was the story. Creeping through a jungle with a retired Spanish super-spy and her X-Man brother, to try and find a mystical gem before the bad guys could get at it, was definitely one of those times. There was a rustle up ahead, something larger than the birds that had been flitting around them, and she paused, crouching behind the screen of bushes.

Kurt glanced sharply in the direction of the noise, then very quietly slipped ahead of Amanda to peer through the bushes to see what was there. If it was some jungle predator, he reasoned, he stood a fair chance of either frightening it away or fighting it. And if it was a guard, he could deal with that too.

Montoya silently moved forward, paralleling Kurt's movements and making quick hand gestures towards the blue X-Man and the bush, then to himself and the side of the path. Flush him out towards me was the message, and Montoya paused for a quick moment to tie a bandanna around his balding head, tugging it down over his eyes in the style of an old bandito mask, and vanishing into the jungle.

Kurt nodded to the older man quickly before he disappeared, then moved towards the bush on the side Montoya had chosen. If he was to flush the guard out, now was the time to make noise. Deliberately, he reached out and snapped a branch, then another.

Sudden movement and the flash of sunlight off metal, before the foliage parted to reveal three men in emerald green uniforms trimmed with silver. Their uniforms might have been ludicrous, but there was nothing funny about the sub-machine guns they held, swinging them towards Kurt.

Before the guns could fire, however, a blur of motion flashed from the woodline, and suddenly the men were shouting, dropping their weapons and holding bleeding hands. Alejandro Montoya practically pranced out in front of them, flamboyantly saluting with his blade and crowing like an eagle. One hunched-over thug was taken out with a kick to the face, and another knocked out with the flat of Montoya's sword. He tipped the other's head back with the point of the sword, looking into the goon's eyes. "Now," he said, trying to hide the fact that he was completely out of breath. "Which way to the temple?"

Kurt had watched all this with bemused admiration - it was nothing he couldn't have done, but Montoya was twice his age, and that had been impressive. For lack of anything else to do, he walked over to stand guard on the two unconscious thugs, just in case they woke up too soon.

The man Montoya was holding at swordpoint merely laughed. "You think it's going to be that easy?" he mocked, his accent clearly working class London. Mercenary for hire, then. "Sorry mate, if you want anything out of me, you're going to have to work harder than that."

"Actually, he won't be doing anything. I will." Amanda rose from her hiding place, walking towards the pair with an almost serene look on her face. "You ever hear of telepaths? Mutants who can look into your mind and know everything you do, all your dirty little secrets? Well, you're looking at one. Only problem is, I'm a bit clumsy. If I have to go in and take the information we need, that might not be everything I do. I might wipe your memories completely, or just damage the part of your brain that lets you see. I might leave you a vegetable, needing someone to wipe your arse and feed you and make sure you don't choke on your own drool... And if you resist, well, that's when it gets really messy." By now she had reached the man, holding her hands up to either side of his head. "Just stay still, this will only take a second. Might hurt like fuck, tho'."

Kurt looked at her sharply, studying her face. On the other hand, she'd lied to the man about being a telepath, and she'd never mentioned to him that she had any such powers. The almost serenity was the last clue, to her big brother, and he smiled faintly. "I would do as my sister tells you, or else make it easier on yourself", he advised the man calmly. "You do not imagine I would have brought her here if she did not have indispensable gifts, do you?"

The man looked from one sibling to the other, sweat that had nothing to do with the heat or his exertion rolling down his face. "You're bluffing," he stammered, but there was a certain lack of conviction in his voice.

"I do not think so, senor," Montoya said, looking askance at Amanda. "You see, in my day? We would use the knives and the boiling water and perhaps the... well, we would obtain the information we need in time. But now, these children today, they are so different from when I was a soldier. So much more direct, yes? I do not think the muchacha is bluffing, senor."

"I'll try to not make you wet yourself," Amanda promised with a sweet smile as she brought her hands closer to the man's temples. There was a long, breathless moment, and then...

"Stop! I'll show you! Just... don't let her in my head!"

"Very good", Kurt said with satisfaction. "Jel'enedra, please come over here so the man knows we keep our word. Now... tell us which way and we will only tie you up when we leave."

Amanda pouted and rejoined Kurt. "You never let me have any fun," she complained. The man shuddered a little.

"There's too many traps to tell you," he admitted. "Better I lead you there."

Montoya sheathed his sword and smiled from underneath his bandana. "Bueno," he said cheerfully. "Lead on, and be quick about it."



...And Kyle finds himself 'babysitting' the two professors.



"Still squishy." Kyle declared, pushing a low-hanging branch up to make way for both of the doctors. "I think the ground is like, half water, half dead ...leaves. No, like, actual dirt." He'd briefly considered getting his sandals out of the plane, but the merits of actually being able to climb if needed outweighed the ew factor of getting things stuck between his toes. "So, uh, can this count as my history final, or what?"

"Absolutely," Farouk replied amiably, spearing something many-legged and wriggling with the tip of his now folded umbrella as he paused to take a deep breath and swipe the sweat out of his eyes. "A thousand words on the effect that their geography and climate had on the Burmese states of the Middle Ages, due by Thursday. I feel your visceral exposure to this flora and fauna of the region will give you a marvelous perspective on the issue." Sighing heavily, Amahl pushed himself back onto the path. "And getting shot will result in substantial downgrading of your marks, Mr. Gibney so do try to avoid it."

"I'm surprised you have any time to teach at all," said Strange from his place at the end of the line. He'd been very quiet for most of the trek, listening to the conversation of the other two. "What with your busy schedule of stalking my former student."

"The key is my stalwart dedication to compromising the educational standards," Farouk replied absently as he carefully extended the psi-tendrils slightly ahead of his established range, probing for threats. Something just didn't seem right.

"Specifically, upon careful consideration I have decided to sacrifice the academic future of the young Mr. Gibney here, for my own nefarious ends. We discussed it and he is 'down with it.' Isn't that right, young man?"

"Dude, I thought we talked about this. You don't rat me out for my serious case of mega senioritis, I don't tell anyone you actually wrote me a decent recommendation letter like you gave a crap or something." Kyle responded, almost automatically. Actually having any kind of banter with his history teacher was a little... no, a lot.. weird, but it wasn't like the guy had docked him points for essays titled "Napoleon Complex. The dude wasn't actually that short, so what was he compensating for anyway?"

Besides, not having to think about what he said meant he could pay attention to watching out for the list of things he thought could potentially be a problem. Bad guys, giant bugs, jaguars, snakes that could eat small toddlers, megalomaniacs. Of the kind that weren't teaching his history class.

"And I thought Amanda's grasp of the English language was colourful..." murmured Strange, but without malice. There was something likeable about the tall young man in the X-Man leathers. Too young, for the sort of life he'd chosen, but that was an argument Strange had lost long ago when he was still tutoring a blond English witch. Then he paused, cocking his head a little. The birdsong had fallen abruptly silent. "That's odd..."

"It's quite all right. I am planning to bury Dr. Strange in a shallow grave after I make off with the data I steal from his mind. Help with the digging counts toward extra-credit." Farouk paused, cocking his head. "Also? Duck."

"It counts towards duck?" Kyle muttered, just before the whistle of something caught his ear. He hit the ground, and in mid-drop, extended a leg to sweep Dr. Strange's legs as a trio of spears thudded into one of the trees, just where their shoulders had been. "Sorry, I had time to like, either warn you, or make sure you didn't get kebab'd. Pretty sure you didn't want any funny piercings." he said, from the ground, attempting to prevent any glaring or muttering. "Also, dude, DUCK is not like, a good warning. Also, what the FUCK, spears? This shit is totally cliche." And there went Kyle's vow to not swear in front of anyone with a 'Dr" in front of their name.

Farouk stood frozen above his prone compatriots, with a slightly bothered expression on his face as another bamboo shaft thunked into ground next to them with an unpleasantly meaty sound, followed by a flood of screeching, half-naked tribesmen clearly intent on mayhem and vivisection.

Amahl smiled and extending his palms forward in a smooth, graceful movement. He was always slightly disgusted with himself for that but all his efforts to break the habit to accompany psi-weaving with hand gestures have proven futile.

The baying mob skidded to an abrupt halt, their vicious keening seamlessly blending into a noise of different tone entirely.

Farouk exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching in an unconscious dance, his forehead beading with sweat once again. "Gentlemen, I present you with your very own army... Mr. Gibney - do get up, you are embarrassing me. "

Strange began to climb to his feet, brushing mulch from the back of his pants. "Forgive me, but what exactly is going on? Not that I don't appreciate the lack of skewering, mind..."

"Seconding!" Kyle got to his feet and shook himself to dislodge most of the stuff stuck to his arms and torso. And then raked his hair with his claws to remove anything that might happen to be crawling around in it. "I see no army. I see my arms, I see some spears, I see some guys who need some pants..." While speaking, he reached up and pulled one of the spears from where it was stuck in a branch and tapped it on the ground, testing it's strength. "Telepathic mojo?" He guessed aloud.

"Of sorts." Farouk swallowed, his suddenly dry throat working heavily. Grasping the nearest branch he blinked the sweat out of his eyes, and pitched his voice low. "For the moment these gentlemen are avidly observing the many-headed monstrosity they choose to worship in these parts. Mostly, I'm nudging them in the direction they wanted to go in any case. Enthusiastic slaughter of Zemo's people was on the agenda for today... "

Farouk swayed slightly, righting himself hurriedly with a quick glance at the grim assemblage surrounding them. "Um, yes. Right. They will let us tag along thanks to Ssangarttvagnu of Way Too Many Fucking Names."

The obscenity seemed incongruous coming from Farouk but the strain was apparently beginning to tell.

"That redoubtable divinity is currently gesturing emphatically and generally making it as clear as possible that there will be bad juju all around if his three most beloved prophets are in any way harmed. But these are not the friendliest of cannibals and it wouldn;t take a whole lot for my weave to snap. So for the love Allah - don't provoke them and try to look as dignified as possible. ... Mr. Gibney there's guano in your hair."

"So, our very own army of cannibals." Strange adjusted his glasses and straightened his hat. "Let's go storm the temple then, shall we?"



The temple is reached, but things are a little more complicated than expected as Skurge the Executioner makes an appearance.



The captured guard had done his job well, leading them through a tunnel that began at the back of the ruins and twisted down and around to the central chamber. As they approached - Kurt in the lead, Montoya with the guard at swordpoint next, Amanda in the rear - they could hear the sound of digging, the low hum of a generator, a raised voice barking instructions. As they reached the chamber, bright light blinded them for a moment, the area lit by floodlights that chased away thousands of years of darkness and secrecy. Scaffolding had been erected to support the ancient chamber's stone walls where the pillars had collapsed, and piles of rubble spoke to the amount of work that had been done uncovering the large statue of a man, lying at the base of a dias. His feet had snapped off, as had one arm, but his hands, resting against his abdomen, still held a clear jewel, the size of a baby's head.

"Shiny," breathed Amanda, peeking down over the ledge. Unfortunately for them, the distraction proved enough for the guard - grabbing Kurt by the back of the collar, he shoved the blue X-Man backwards into Montoya, knocking him off-balance. Before any of them could react, he was scrambling for the nearest scaffold, shouting the alarm at the top of his voice.

"Hijo de puta!" Montoya shouted as he fumbled for his sword. "Get back here and fight like a Spaniard, English swine!" he shouted after the guard.

"Or, indeed, like a gypsy", Kurt said grimly, recovering his balance and instantly teleporting after the guard. The man found a blue arm in an iron grip around his throat very shortly afterwards. "Silence, or I will give you back to my sister." Might as well take advantage of the image they'd set up in the jungle.

"Um, Kurt, I think we might have bigger problems..." came Amanda's voice as she pointed down into the chamber. Every eye was on them and already gun barrels were being swung in their direction.

Montoya brandished his sword, turning to face the large group of thugs. With a wicked grin, he turned to Kurt and nodded. "All right. I will take the fifty on the left..."

Suddenly, the wall behind the group of Zemo's men exploded inwards, and in charged Cain Marko, with three garishly-costumed goons hanging off of him. "I found the place!" he shouted over his shoulder, picking one of the men off of his back and throwing him like a bowling ball into the crowd. "Hey, and the other guys! Hi, guys!" he gave a wave, pausing to thump another guard on the head and toss him into a wall. "Hey, is that the diamond?"

"Intruders!" From the excavation zone, a cry came, followed by a muscular blond man charging up towards Cain. "The gem has been claimed for my Lady, and if you seek it, you will stand and fight me." And -then- the look of recognition passed over his face, and he paused before hefting the huge double-bladed axe that he had been restnig on one shoulder. "You, Destroyer will stand and fight me, no matter your reason for being here. The rest may leave unharmed, so long as they do not seek the gem."

Cain blinked at the behemoth with the axe - for the first time, he actually was looking at someone close to his own size menacing them. A moment's realization set in, and a specific memory involving the "Destroyer" moniker. "Your Lady's gonna be pretty disappointed, then," he said, cracking his knuckles and squaring off with the Viking-looking axeman. He set his feet and flexed his biceps, the black iron armor materializing around his body in a flash of flame. "And get a damn haircut."

"Well," Farouk blinked as he ambled through the destroyed wall, looking mildly non-plussed. "Looks like we are just in time." He turned slightly, the white suit (still bizzarely impeccable) looking morbidly out of place. "Gentlemen - for the glory of Ssangarttvagnu the Magnificent. Oh, fuck it. Just kill everybody and eat the rest, I'm done. " He sat heavily against the wall, his legs giving out suddenly as the flood of shrieking savages poured into the temple brandishing a bewildering array of weaponry ranging from bamboo spears to Kalashnikovs.

The first goon still looked very surprised, even as the shaman's gnarled fingers reached through his throat and pulled out his still beating heart. These were really his kind of people, Amahl remembered thinking, even as the darkness claimed him.

Kyle still had his 'souvenir' spear, having refused to give it up, and swung it out sharply to catch one of the natives on the ankles, tripping him and using his bare back as a springboard to jump and kick one of the guards in the head. The guard reeled back from the clawed foot in his face, dropping his gun and Kyle landed atop his chest. "See, dude, you're lucky. I won't -eat- you." He growled, before bouncing the man's head off the ground.

"Um, I hate to be the wet blanket here, but with Professor Farouk unconscious, who is, ah... 'driving' our handy cannibal army? After telling them to 'kill everybody and eat the rest'?" asked Strange as he picked his way after Kyle at a more sedate pace. He then caught sight of Skurge going toe-to-toe with Cain, axe swinging, and paused. "Oh, my. That's genuine Asgardian weaponry." He didn't even notice that at least one of the guards was taking a bead on him.

Monet had hung back, staring at the chaos that she was entirely unprepared to deal with. Wide-eyed, she saw the goon point his gun at Strange and ran at him, grabbing the man in a rugby tackle and slamming him into another goon, landing finally at Skurge's feet.

Half-way down the scaffolding already, Amanda paused at the sight of her former classmate and former teacher being menaced by someone with a very big axe. Monet was probably fine, but Strange needed getting out of there. "Ku-- Nightcrawler!" she called to her brother, still wrestling with their guide goon. "Pick up in aisle three!" She pointed at Strange and then indicated a spot behind the head of the statue that seemed out of the melee. "Meet you there!"

Kurt glanced her way, then nodded and let go of the guide abruptly, knocking him off balance, then just pushed him off the scaffolding. The next moment, he was standing next to Strange, and the moment after that, the two of them were behind the statue. "We are waiting, Daytripper!"

She pulled a face at him as she touched ground, both at the codename and the words. "Showoff!" she called back, then ducked as one of Farouk's 'followers' swung a club at her head. "Be right there!" There was a shovel nearby, one of those small folding Army ones and it made a rather satisfying 'CLANG' as it connected with the cannibal's face. He dropped like a bag of rocks and Amanda continued making her way through the mess, her progress punctuated with the occasional 'CLANG!'

***

Jan looked around, tiny wings buzzing rapidly. So many bad guys; so little time! With a grin and a shrug, she selected one at random, moving in quickly to give him a sharp sting. Before she could be slapped or squished, Jan moved on to her next surprise victim.

As Montoya ducked and weaved around wild cannibals and gun-toting mercenaries, he saw one recoil as if he'd touched an electric fence. He lunged forward, skewering the mercenary through the thigh with his rapier, then giving a quick salute to his downed foe before screeching like an eagle and leaping atop the downed statue, daring his opponents to come challenge him on the high ground, taunting them in Spanish the entire time.

"How many of these motherfuckers are there?" Kyle yelled over the grunts and shouts and CLANGS and buzzing. It was mostly a rhetorical question, something to bellow as he raked a guard across the face and drove his elbow into the ribs of the native that had managed to forget Farouk's order 'not to bite the hairy one'. It seemed like for every one he knocked out, another popped up - he'd already been knifed in the arm once, and he was already sick of fighting.

His head was killing him, and as always the presence deep in the back was struggling, pressing forward, probing for weakness - Amahl shoved the Shadow King down and blinked his eyes open, blocking out the ache with an effort of will he immediately resented.

The bloody chaos of the temple he beheld did little to improve his mood. Neither did the fact that he was apparently left propped up against the wall to convalesce at leisure. "This is what happens," he muttered wearily "when I lend Trotsky out."

He considered getting up but the vertigo and the rising bile quickly changed his mind. Farouk assessed the situation rapidly and winced. Clearly something had to be done - if his boys ate Cain he would never hear the end of it. On the other hand he was fairly certain that if he tried to interfere with the entire war party again his head would explode.

"Well..." Amahl murmured, and twisted his fingers. "Like Nana used to say. Work smart, not hard..."

The shaman stopped suddenly, as if he ran head-first into the stone wall and screamed. A piercing shriek of pure rage and hate, the guttural wail cut through the din of the fight and for the moment the entire tableau froze.

The little man wrapped in the tattered skin of a panther, seemed possessed as he twitched, his mouth frothing and the agate-black eyes fixed on the suddenly uneasy Skurge.

If anyone had been looking at Farouk, they might have noticed his lips moving in uncanny unison with those of the shaman as the savage extended his hand, the gnarled finger pointing accusingly at Zemo's henchman. Nobody was, however, being understandably concerned with the little angry man in the middle of the temple.

The litany that left the shaman's lips was utterly incomprehensible to most people within the hearing range, but the gist was readily apparent - even before the remnants of the warband left what they were doing and lunged for the nonplussed Skurge like the pack of wolves closing in for a kill.

Farouk licked dried, cracked lips, desperately wishing for a drink, as he leaned back, curiously lethargic. If he was any judge of character at all, he suspected it would prove difficult for Skurge to explain that he was not in fact incubating the local version of the Antichrist in his medulla oblongata. The elderly gentleman with a dagger made out of a human rib definetely struck him as the thorough kind of man, who would crack his skull and scoop out the wet bits just to be certain.

He should get out of the office more. This was more diverting than he remembered.

However, even an army of cannibal tribesmen were like so many sheafs of wheat before the harvester's scythe as Skurge swung his monstrous axe back and forth, clearing himself a space to move. Cain nodded and cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing off his matte black armor. "All right, you freaky hippie son of a bitch, you wanna dance? We'll dance!" he bellowed, then launched himself at the axe-wielding giant like a locomotive.

Skurge braced for the impact, taking only a step back before the weight of the Juggernaut hit him, and the pair cut a furrow in the earth, taking down trees and guard and cannibals alike. And one grey-clad dark-skinned woman, who had the ill fortune to be underfoot.

Momentum carried them through a low stone wall, and into a pile of rocky debris before Cain planted his feet and swung one huge fist at the Asgardian warrior. It struck, and Skurge stumbled. But he was a warrior from the day he could lift a weapon - despite Cain's strength and size advantage, it would take more then one punch to stop him.

Skurge took the opportunity to raise his axe over his head, swinging down. The axe hit the ground as Cain dodged, and came up again, arcing low and finally striking, slicing the Juggernaut across the thigh.

"Oi! I'm right fucking here!" Monet wriggled to one side, out of the way of Skurge's feet and climbed to her knees, one knee still in the back of the stunned thug she'd originally knocked over. She hit him in the kidneys as hard as she could, hand bouncing off his back.

Amanda was slightly breathless as she reached Kurt and Strange, the shovel slightly dented. Crouching by them, she peeked over the statue (and past Montoya, who was still prancing about stabbing people with his sword) at the chaos. "This isn't going so well," she commented, sliding back down. "Just who is the guy with the axe any way?"

Strange coughed on the dust that had been stirred up. "Skurge the Executioner, I believe. Headsman of the Gods, his axe is said to be able to cut anything..."

Amanda's eyes widened. "Oh, that's not good." Then the cannibal shaman's voice rose above the din and she peeked up again. "Oh, for fuck's sake... Kurt, Farouk's doing the wilting telepath thing out there. Better go grab him before he gets skewered or something."

Kurt followed her gaze to where Farouk sat, looked mildly exasperated, and promptly disappeared in the usual cloud of smoke, reappearing next to the older man.

Amahl glanced at the Nightcrawler through the lidded eyes. "Oh, good. Somebody remembered that whole 'backup' idea. Listen, if anybody comes near here, just bite their ankles or something," Farouk waved airily to accompany his tactical advice and returned his focus to the shaman, who was dancing like a demented, maniacal and heavily armed weasel between the clashing giants.

"And your mother! Yes, with the goat! How do you like that, eh?" Montoya continued to taunt, taking a quick moment after another mercenary went down with a stab wound to lean on the broken statue and catch his breath. "Oh, dios mio, I am not as young as I once was. Can someone not just take the diamond and--" another stab, and another mercenary goon went down groaning and clutching his groin, "--and leave this accursed place?"

"Workin' on it!" Kyle answered, between headbutting one of the guards and then kicking him in the ribs a few times. "It'd be a hell of a lot easier if somebody would get rid of the goddamn crowd and the psycho with axe!" Although, the crowd of guards was thinning, almost to the point where he could count the remaining number.

Cain took a step back, glancing down at his thigh. The blade had cleaved right through the black iron armor, and... he was bleeding?

"You cut me?" Cain sputtered in surprise. "You cut me! Nothing hurts me, I'm the goddamn Juggernaut! St. Croix!" he barked like a drill sergeant. "High-low, cripple the fucker!"

Monet's kidney punch hit in concert with a two-fisted haymaker from Cain, his wounded leg reducing the force of the blow to that of a freight train rather than an angry comet. Skurge rolled back with the impact, however, that vicious axe swinging in a head-level arc. A space of scant centimeters kept Cain's throat from being slashed, however, as the domed helmet took the blow, tumbling off and fading into ash, leaving Cain's head bare.

"You are past redemption!" Skurge bellowed as he slashed the axe back and forth. "And you!" He spun, swinging low at Monet. "You are damned by association!" The axe would have caved in the girl's head, had she not dropped to the ground. Instead, it cut through the space where she had been, taking with it a chuck of her hair. "You dress like a slattern! And you have ridiculous hair!"

"Eeee!" Monet screamed and hit him again in the knee. Her hand bounced off, stinging from the impact. "Help!"

Cain lunged forwards, ducking another swipe of the axe. However, that allowed Skurge to jump up, step off of Cain's shoulders, and make a leap for the statue, nearly decapitating Montoya as he plucked the diamond out of its setting. "Victory is ours!" he shouted as he sprinted for the jungle.